Disclaimer: Me? Own this swelliferousness? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-

Slight Warning: I've been in a bit of an overly shippy mood lately. So there's a lot of E/C-ishness in here. Just so you know.

Erik falls onto the couch with a tiny cry of pain. Christine sits beside him, lightly rubbing his back.

"Do you want to go into a bedroom?" she asks quietly, perfectly aware that Mrs. Giry is hovering just behind her.

He shakes his head, burrowing as deeply into the cushions as he can. It smells like Christine here, like comfort…like home. It's warm and safe and feels like the only place where he can never be hurt. He knows he can't stay here forever, but he wishes to God that he could.

She understands. "All right. I'll get you some blankets."

He clenches his eyes more tightly closed, fighting the desire to cry. He doesn't want to be a sissy any more than he wants to impose upon the Girys. This isn't the time for emotion, he tries to tell himself even as a singular tear trails down his cheek.

She returns, arms full of warm fuzzy things. Gently, like the mother he never really had, she drapes three blankets over his shivering, huddled form, then sits again on the edge.

"Is there anything else I can give you?"

Just stay with me, he hears himself whisper. Just for a little while.

"Until you fall asleep," she agrees. She caresses his face under the hood, running her delicate fingers against his skin. He closes his eyes again, feeling quite suddenly sleepy and drunk on her presence. The last thing he hears is her gentle voice, whispering sweet little things that he can't quite understand. He vows with his last thought that this is the end of the old Erik: He will not show this weakness anymore. He will not make Christine nurse him any longer.

Her voice washes over him, strengthening his resolve.

This is it…

Christine rolled out of bed, her mind begging for coffee. Meg's form was only slightly visible beneath her own covers, so Christine hauled herself out of the room without bothering to even poke her friend. All she wanted was caffeine and a hot shower and—Mamma mia…

Erik was standing in the kitchen, his shirt off, eating a bagel. He looked nothing like the whimpering ball of agony that he'd been the previous evening. In fact, the only testaments to Friday's events were the bruises covering his torso and the dried blood in his dark hair.

Christine's knees seemed to disappear entirely. One hand shot out to clutch the countertop as she took in a breath. Since when has he been so built

He looked up to see her practically drooling and smiled, instinctively covering his face with one hand. "Good morning."

"M-morning," she gasped out, staggering toward him. "You…found the bagels."

He caught her as she tripped over a stray shoe—Damn that shoe, I'm not normally this clumsy—and laughed. "That I did."

"Did…you leave me one?" Ooh, smooth. Really brilliant, Chrissy, really—

Another husky laugh. "Yeah, there's a couple left. Do you want me to toast one for you?"

Oh, you're toasting something… "Yes, please. Except…"

He blinked. "Except what?"

"Well, if you let go of me, I'll probably fall over." She blushed, looking him over.

This time, his laugh was near-hysterical. "Are you…you aren't kidding?"

She giggled at his uncertain little boy expression and leaned against his chest, craning her neck to look up at him. Both his hands were grasping her arms, so his face was quite unobstructed—and she found that she liked it that way.

"Just give me a minute to…lean against something…I'm not used to seeing you like this, you know, you really can't blame a girl."

He seemed even more uncertain now. She grinned more broadly, reaching up to tangle her hand in his disheveled hair and stopping when he winced.

"Are you all right?"

Something strange crossed his face. "Yes, fine. I just hit my head last night is all. No problem."

"No problem? Erik, you've got a gash back here—"

"It's okay. I didn't die in my sleep, did I?" He smiled, trying to wash her fears away.

"That isn't funny," she told him, slipping her fingers into his hair again and feeling around for the wound. "It's dangerous, Erik—"

He cupped her face with both hands, bringing his mouth down against hers and silencing her. She melted into him against her will, wrapping her arms around his neck in an effort to remain on her feet. He pressed her back against the counter, running his hands skillfully down the sides of her throat as she pushed her tongue against his lips.

The act of passion probably would have continued to a point that would have been mildly embarrassing for the Girys to walk in on if Meg hadn't done just that. Her mouth fell open and she turned quickly away, crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" in a voice that was—in Christine's eyes—loud enough to wake the dead.

Erik pulled his lips away from hers regretfully, smiling as she groaned and turned to glare at her friend.

"I hate you, did you know that?"

Meg laughed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you guys were getting hot and heavy in here."

"It's all right," Erik told her, gently lowering Christine to the ground. "I have to go do something anyway."

This was news to Christine. "You do?"

"Yep." He met her eyes straight on, which surprised her a bit. When did he get forceful?

He kissed her briefly, then said, "I'll be in the garage if anyone needs me."

"What's in the garage?" Christine asked when he'd gone. Meg shrugged, rummaging in the refrigerator for milk.

"My dad's stuff. Weights and crap. So…" She plunked herself down on a chair and grinned leeringly at her friend. "What exactly did I walk in on?"

"Nothing," Christine answered broodingly.

"Really? Nothing? Then why was his shirt off?"

Christine tried to busy herself with a bagel in order to prevent herself from slipping back into "Oh, God, he's so amazing" land.

"I don't know. Maybe he was hot."

"Oh, he was most definitely hot, my dear," Meg chuckled. "Apart from the face thing, I mean. Your honey is…well, I'm sorry, Chrissy, but the boy is fine."

Christine promptly dropped the knife she was holding. Swinging around, she glared freely at Meg. The slight blond girl raised her hands innocently.

"Hey, I've known him for years. He doesn't unnerve me the way he does most people."

This didn't add up in Christine's mind. "I thought you didn't like him."

"Oh, I don't," Meg assured her bluntly. "He's a scary guy with a wicked temper. Doesn't change his god-like physique." She grinned, looking rather satisfied.

Angrily, Christine clenched a fist against her side. She'd always known her friend to be considerably more judgmental than she would have liked, but this…this made her sick.

"What temper?" she demanded. "I've never—"

"Oh, please." Meg rolled her eyes. "You know what he did to Joseph Buquet. You can't him from himself, Christine, not even with your hero complex. When did you develop that anyway?"

Christine was in no mood to lapse into a good-natured bantering match. "So you believe Raoul's crack story about him?" she cried furiously.

Meg blinked, looking quite puzzled. "It isn't a crack story, Christine. It's true."

"No, it isn't!" Christine shouted.

Meg stood up, knocking her chair against the wall. "If Erik didn't do it, who did? I suppose Joe just beat the crap out of himself, did he?"

"Oh, are you blind?" Christine cried, coming to stand less than a foot from the other girl. "Erik didn't do it!"

"Then who did?" Meg challenged.

"Raoul!" Christine answered, giving voice to the suspicion that had been festering in her mind all night.

She wasn't sure how she expected Meg to respond. Not snap and shove her, that was for certain.

Caught entirely off-guard, Christine stumbled. Meg advanced on her, striking her violently across the face.

"How dare you?" she spat. "How dare you accuse Raoul? He couldn't—wouldn't—how dare you?"

She made to hit Christine again, but the brunette flung up a hand, catching the girl's thin wrist.

"Don't touch me," she warned in a dangerously low voice. "You have no right. I'm going to get up and go outside. You will stay here and cool down. Got it?"

Wrenching away, Meg hissed, "Don't tell me what to do." Turning on her heel, she stalked away to the living room.

Christine exhaled shakily. What was wrong with her? She wasn't a temperamental person and she'd never fought with Meg before; certainly not with violence. What was so different about this morning?

Erik.

She'd fight for him, she realized as if a shock had coursed through her body. She's die for him, if that was what it took to protect him from the darkness of humanity.

Getting up, she opened the back door and went out, blinking in the almost-unholy brightness. Moving quietly, she snuck across the lush green lawn to the mouth of the garage.

Erik was benching weights of varying sizes, apparently unaware of her presence. She stared as he grunted and lifted the bar up, brought it down, and let out a shaky breath as he lifted it again. His biceps—both of a considerable size, she realized now—bulged with the effort; she wiped self-consciously at her mouth.

God…how long has he been working out like this?

"Hey." He was sitting up, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel and letting the fluffy cloth linger over the ruined half of his face. She came to him and took the towel away.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Confused, he gazed up at her. She rested a hand lightly against his cheek.

"Hide from me."

The reprimand was as gentle as her touch and she saw his gray eyes flutter closed. A sly smile crossed her features; the effect she had on him was almost as drugging as…well, everything about him.

"What are you doing out there?" she forced herself to ask before her strength disappeared completely.

"Working out." He shrugged, reopening his eyes. "I've been doing it for years, down at the school…sometimes here at night, when I know they won't see me. Mrs. Giry doesn't mind."

"Why?"

"I don't know…habit, I guess. I'm strange enough without being fat and lazy." His eyes twinkled teasingly.

She laughed. "There doesn't appear to be any danger of that. But if you've been doing this for years…why haven't you…"

"Fought back?" His smiled faded. "Because there's a difference between having the strength to lift weight and the strength to fight battles. I've got the first. I'm working on the second."

She nodded, trying to understand what his semi-cryptic babbling meant. Her hand was still caressing the side of his face and, quite suddenly, he seemed to lose control.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her roughly down onto his lap, and crushed her mouth with his own. She gave a little cry of surprise and pleasure, digging both hands into his hair and scratching his scalp with her nails.

His hands supported her back even as she leaned into him, reveling in his warm chest against her shirt-covered one. And when one hand began to trace its way gently up the back of that shirt…

She shivered. He brushed his mouth down her throat, allowing her to tilt her head back and moan. This was getting to be too much, she thought, too much, too soon…

She gasped as probing hands searched her body and slowly, instinctively rocked her hips against his. His eyes flew open in a sense of shock.

"Christine…"

"Make a choice, Erik," she gasped. "I won't…be able…to stop. Make a decision."

He hesitated and she groaned even as she felt his body respond. "Erik! Please!"

He shook his head, gently removing her from his lap and standing up, running his hands rigorously through his hair. "I can't," he told her softly. "I can't burden you with that."

She was still trying to breathe, trying to regain control over all that his touch had undone. "What?" was all she could manage, disappointed. "Don't you want…?"
"Of course!" he cried, pounding the wall with one agitated fist. "Of course I want it…you. But I can't. Not with all that's been going on…you're in enough danger being wit me to begin with."

She gaped at him. "Are you kidding?" she demanded. "You still…you still think I'm in danger?"

"You saw what happened last night!" he exploded. "You saw their reaction to me being at the game! If there's how they do things when it's something as innocent as a football game, what would they do if we…if I…I mean, what if something happened? What if you got pregnant, for God's sake? I wouldn't be able to let anything happen to you…I'd die first, Christine, do you understand that? I'd die. I'll never let them touch you, Christine. And if that means denying myself some happiness, for the sake of your safety…well, then it's no question."

He fell silent, facing the wall. His shoulders heaved from the effort of containing himself, of pushing back raw emotion. It was really sweet, in a painful way, she thought.

Very painful.

But we're both willing to die for each other. Why does that give me a feeling of sick security?

Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "Most guys wouldn't give a damn about any of that…"

He looked uncertainly at her. "So…you aren't mad?"

"If you can wait, I can wait," she answered with a challenging grin.

Slowly, he grinned back.

A/N: Whoo, that one came out pretty quickly with few roadblocks. Makes me happy; I appear to be working past that nightmarish writer's block.

So, I'm done with Phantom. And: SPOILER WARNING:

I'm so glad the kid was Erik's. I don't think everyone got that, since the wording was strange, but I was so psyched…Raoul even accepted that she never loved him like she loved Erik. It just fills me with such a sense of triumph for this humble little ship…

Anywhoo. Review Replies:

WaY aWaY- It's just such a spiffy film…I wish it hadn't been ignored at the Oscars…

Mill- For camp? Well, all right. Since it's for such a worthy cause. –grins-

Maeve Of the Nile- Yeah, but we always want to give Erik bear hugs. –laughs-

Maglenan Songbird- Stoof? –blinks-

erik'sangel527- Heh, I just realized that all of my characters are falling totally into OOC range…that's kinda depressing…

Mademoiselle P- Thank God for random little bookshops. It was really cheap, made me very happy.

Nade-Naberrie- No, we don't want you to die! Here, have hot-n-heavy E/C-ness!

Neon signs at 2AM- That's a lot of…illions.

Crazy Lady Georgey- Baseball…bats? –blinks and inches backward- Those aren't for usage against me, are they?

Angel-of-Music1331- It's all right that you told me the end, it didn't ruin it for me. God, it's an amazing book…my favorite…-goes through withdrawals and dives for Phantom-

SimplyElymas- Be…cause he doesn't exist? –wince-

Alyssa Halliwell- Charmed fan, are you?

JeanMarie- ….-locks lips-

SmileVampy- Yes, conclusions are very bad things to jump to…

Tactics- Your assumptions are intriguing, but you'll have to wait to see if you're right.

hikari-no-tsubasa- I had a storyline originally to veer from? –looks over old chapters-

Shorty- Doesn't make me feel bad. All the lines and equations make me feel bad. –smirks-

Silent Tragedy- Hope this sort of fulfills your E/C fix.

LadyWillow- lol, aww, your poor dad…

AMLisdabomb- How's this one? No rain, but some make-out sessions…

Alixy- I know, I'm sorry. –hangs head-

La Foamy- Erm…are you promoting violence toward the Fop?

Aki T- Urg. –tries to sit up- Yeah, an…update. Whoo, stars.

MadameAngel- Sorry, I'm kind of lending him out to Mill for a camp thing. Next time, you can have him.

So, that's another full page and a half of review replies. Have I mentioned recently how much I love you guys?